Fred On Everything — Scurrilous Commentary by Fred Reed

A Matter Of Allegiance

And Why One Might Wisely Withold It

May 29, 2005

I wish to propose a salubrious anarchy, a deliberate renunciation of fealty
to country, society, and government, an assertion of independence from folly
and moral decay. Permit me to offer a taxing political idea: When a society
ceases to be worthy of support, it is reasonable to withdraw support. The time,
I submit, has come.

Here I do not mean to urge crime or counsel treason, but to suggest quiet renunciation
of the national disaster. Ask yourself how much of American life pleases you.
The schools are run by fools to manufacture fools, government grows more intrusive
by the day, and culture is determined by the triple cloacae of New York, Hollywood,
and Washington. Freedom withers, not only in the ominous encroachment of police
powers, but in the loss of control over schools, church, hiring, daily life.
We are no longer our own. The United States is not the country we are told it
is, and not the country it was.

How to escape? The beginning, and the most difficult, is a moral distancing.
Those who care must disentangle themselves from the cobweb loyalties and factitious
duties with which we have been unconsciously encumbered. From childhood we learn
patriotism, that one must vote, that if our way is not perfect it is at least
best, that we must support anything however bad because were were born in a
particular place. Why?

Let me suggest that one owes loyalty to one's family and friends, to common
decency, and to nothing else. Render under Caesar what you must, keep what you
can, and swear allegiance to nothing. Here I do not mean just the government,
but the zeitgeist, the miasmic fetor of trashy culture, the desperate consumerism,
the entire psychic odor of a society in decomposition.

Begin with things so fundamental as seldom to be reflected upon. For example,
do not imagine that you are under an obligation to marry, or to have children,
or to raise them as the government requires. Procreate if you choose, but only
if you genuinely want to procreate. It is not your job to perpetuate a civilization
that is daily less deserving of perpetuation.

But: never let the government have your children. Once they are had, your responsibility
is to them. Teach them at home. Better yet, go abroad. Other countries do not
force you to pay for an academically retrograde moral cesspool and then to drown
your children in it. You might be astonished to know Argentina, for example.

Ask not what you can do for your country, but what it can do for you—you
ought to get some of your taxes back.

Do not tie yourself to…anything. The price of freedom is poverty: freedom
grows as your needs diminish. Less apothegmatically, if you believe that you
need a vast house in a prestigious suburb, then you will need a lucrative job
to pay for it. Having tied your psychic contentment to such an abode you will
also believe that you need impressive cars and will therefore be tied to a retirement
system and, bingo, the door of the trap falls. This, we are told, is the American
Dream. I fear it has become so.

I lived years ago in a second-hand house trailer in the woods. I do not know
what it cost, or would cost today, but perhaps fifteen thousand dollars. It
was perfectly comfortable, warm in winter, air-conditioned in summer. Mornings
were blessedly quiet unless you regard birdsong as noise. A brick barbecue provided
a place to produce ribs and drink bourbon and water. A couple of companionable
dogs rounded out the ensemble. They had the run of the trailer, as was right.

Now, living in a trailer is to the consumerist sensibility simply too
degrading and so…I mean, my god, how could you face the neighbors? (There
weren’t any.) But aside from damage to a servile dependent vanity, what
is the drawback? A couple of hundred dollars buys a remarkably good stereo,
music is free, libraries are good, and I for one am more comfortable in jeans
and tee shirt than in Calvin and Klein trappings.

When your expenses are few, your susceptibility to economic serfdom is small.
You do not need to work miserably in a pointless job for a boss you would gleefully
strangle. Yes, you need money. The first principle is never to work in a job
that you cannot afford to quit. This means avoiding any job with a retirement,
of which you will become a prisoner. The second principle is to work at something
portable that you can do independently and, preferably, without capital. Retirement?
Save.

Dentistry pays well but requires pricey equipment, and it is not easy to build
a clientele. An automotive mechanic is always in demand and the employer will
usually provide the tools. Writing is a serviceable gig and can be done from
anywhere. Many varieties of technicians readily find jobs. Remember that white-collar
work, aside from tending strongly to entangle you, gets boring. Get a commercial-diving
ticket, take a serious course in the repair of marine diesels, and spend your
life in the Pacific.

Here again the obstacles are fear, inertia, and vanity. If you come from a
family on the suburban-death track, the thought of being a mere mechanic or
dive-shop owner or what have you may be disturbing. "Don’t I need
a college degree to hold my head up?" Look at the universities, at what
they have become, and ask the question again. (Anyway, respectable in whose
eyes? Your own are the only ones that count.)

Finally, work the system. The government, if you let it, will take roughly
half of your income, give much of it to useless bureaucrats, much to various
forms of welfare, use much to bomb countries you may have no desire to bomb,
and much to force upon you services, such as horrible schools, that you do not
want. The central question regarding government is whether you can take more
from it than it takes from you. It is much better to receive than to give. Live
cheap, work only as much as you like, enjoy life, and keep your taxes down.

You will still read of the rot and running sores of a declining culture, but
it will bother you less. These things are your problem only to the extent that
you feel yourself to be part of the society that produces them. Don’t
fight the government, as it will win. Don’t try to reform society, because
you can’t. Laugh at it. Live well. Read much.

PhredPhoto: Party at the offices of Soldier of Fortune in
Boulder, a long time ago. Byron the Enforcer, Reggie Hoolahan, Mary, Bob Brown,
Mouse. Proof positive that elegance and happiness are not indissolubly linked.

Fred's Books

Donate - Feed FOE!

Note:
that because this is Mexico, the PayPal page comes up in Spanish, and goes
into Violeta's account, but the button in the upper right corner turns it
magically into English.

Or don't feed the rascal... I don't know. But it would sure help.

Panhandling is not particularly pleasant, or I'd be sitting outside the subway jiggling a McDonald's cup
seeded with bait change. Fact is, though, costs attach to producing these eruptions
of outrage and sedition -- not much more than $1K a year in direct costs, but lots more in time which, for a freelance purveyor of
lies and distortion, is money lost. Granted, you didn't ask me to do it. You
don't owe me anything. On the other hand, these curiosities seem to
amuse a lot of people, who of course may have too much time on their hands.

This isn't a strong-arm approach. The column will continue anyway. I'm
not actually dying. Why, you might ask, should you pay for my hobby when
I don't pay for your hang-gliding? Think about something else. But in a
moment of reduced alertness, especially if you are filthy rich from exploiting
orphans and oppressing children in iron lungs, a few small bucks would sure
help. That funny-looking little button above that says "Buy Now" works.

To subscribe/unsubscribe to the Fred newsletter and be notified when a new
column is published, click the above buttons. You don't need to put anything
in the message; just send it blank.

See? You are not alone.

Which may or may not be a good thing. At any rate, there are other twisted,
brain-fried wackos out there who have too much time on their hands and read
this stuff, probably while cleaning their guns. But don't worry. This site
wraps its IP packets in plain brown envelopes marked "Kinky Books" so your
neighbors won't know. Anyway, to the extent that counters mean any thing,
which isn't much of an extent, this sucker gives the number of columns read,
not counting subscribers, since Monday, October 8, 2002. Whoopee-do.
More or less.

Or, for a book whose purchase will probably get you on Homeland Security's no-fly list,
click here
and those scoundrels at Amazon will send it to you in a plain brown wrapper marked "Sex
Books" to protect your reputation. Sordid wit, literary grunge, nothing a civilized
person would read. But you came to this site, didn't you? Ha. Gotcha.

Buy Fred's reprehensible book, Nekkid In Austin! Amazon has the beast.
Another collection of outrages, irresponsible ravings, and curmudgeonry from
Fred On Everything and some innocent magazines that foolishly published him.
Put Fred Reed in the search at thingy at Amazon and the book will pop up
like mushrooms on a decaying stump. Tell everyone you came to the site by
mistake while searching for articles on cannibalism. Your childhood made you
do it. We're all victims nowadays.